The flipside to the coin AKA The Placebo Effect Gone Horribly Awry
So. My last entry was all about how amazing it is to see one of your favorite artists live and how it truly should be pursued whenever possible, because the rush you get is so indescribable.
This isn't that story.
This story, however, does have a really nice beginning. It starts with me lounging on my couch, listening to MB20's long-awaited new album (WHICH IS SO BLOODY OUTSTANDING OMG I CAN'T EVEN), gazing at the sunny skies outside and feeling hopelessly smitten and optimistic. Eventually, I get dressed, have my mom collect our dog for the night and head to the salon where Criss works. He does my hair PERFECTLY. He does my make-up, you guessed it, PERFECTLY. We head to the train station together, looking absolutely awesome if you ask me.
The ride goes smoothly, and at some point Criss remarks that I'm looking "bafflingly joyous" and that it's really lovely to see. I smile even more.
Now... I'd really love to stop there, because it feels as if someone stopped a roll of film at that point, got another one and taped the two rolls together, turning our happy-go-lucky flick into a tearjerker at the drop of a hat.
We got to Helsinki. It was raining. It was hellishly windy. We got lost. I frantically called my mom to ask for directions, and despite my own foolishness and the raging elements, we eventually got to the venue. ...Which was dark. And empty. For a few seconds, I got a horrible feeling at the pit of my stomach and wondered if we'd come on the wrong day. No, it was even worse. They had cancelled the show, because Brian, the lead singer of the band Placebo, had suspected tonsillitis.
In other words, we paid 60 fucking euro to travel to Helsinki and back, and for what? DIDDLY SQUAT, that's what. Now, before you get on my back about it, I admit that I'm not even close to being the worst off. Lots of people came from abroad, and thus also had to pay for expensive airfare and hotel rooms, none of which they're getting back. Some also queued for hours. 60 euro, in comparison, seems like nothing much. But it still bugs me more than I care to admit. And now, it turns out they're not even rescheduling the show as they tentatively promised to do.
The best part, you ask? THE TICKETS WERE FREE. I WON THEM. Just a few days before the actual show. I thought I was the luckiest bastard on Earth, told my friends that I'd finally gotten something in this life by simply snapping my fingers... and then it was all taken from me.
I've tried to be as calm and collected about this as I possibly can, but to be honest, I'd love to rip out Brian's tonsils and shove them up his arse. Yes, his A-R-S-E.
*sigh* See you at the bitter end, alright. I'm contemplating burning my tickets.
xxPo
P.S. However, it's actually really nice to read something like this, from a few days after. Life goes on and people experience greatness. I'm just finding it hard to swallow that I never even got a chance to.
This isn't that story.
This story, however, does have a really nice beginning. It starts with me lounging on my couch, listening to MB20's long-awaited new album (WHICH IS SO BLOODY OUTSTANDING OMG I CAN'T EVEN), gazing at the sunny skies outside and feeling hopelessly smitten and optimistic. Eventually, I get dressed, have my mom collect our dog for the night and head to the salon where Criss works. He does my hair PERFECTLY. He does my make-up, you guessed it, PERFECTLY. We head to the train station together, looking absolutely awesome if you ask me.
The ride goes smoothly, and at some point Criss remarks that I'm looking "bafflingly joyous" and that it's really lovely to see. I smile even more.
Now... I'd really love to stop there, because it feels as if someone stopped a roll of film at that point, got another one and taped the two rolls together, turning our happy-go-lucky flick into a tearjerker at the drop of a hat.
We got to Helsinki. It was raining. It was hellishly windy. We got lost. I frantically called my mom to ask for directions, and despite my own foolishness and the raging elements, we eventually got to the venue. ...Which was dark. And empty. For a few seconds, I got a horrible feeling at the pit of my stomach and wondered if we'd come on the wrong day. No, it was even worse. They had cancelled the show, because Brian, the lead singer of the band Placebo, had suspected tonsillitis.
In other words, we paid 60 fucking euro to travel to Helsinki and back, and for what? DIDDLY SQUAT, that's what. Now, before you get on my back about it, I admit that I'm not even close to being the worst off. Lots of people came from abroad, and thus also had to pay for expensive airfare and hotel rooms, none of which they're getting back. Some also queued for hours. 60 euro, in comparison, seems like nothing much. But it still bugs me more than I care to admit. And now, it turns out they're not even rescheduling the show as they tentatively promised to do.
The best part, you ask? THE TICKETS WERE FREE. I WON THEM. Just a few days before the actual show. I thought I was the luckiest bastard on Earth, told my friends that I'd finally gotten something in this life by simply snapping my fingers... and then it was all taken from me.
I've tried to be as calm and collected about this as I possibly can, but to be honest, I'd love to rip out Brian's tonsils and shove them up his arse. Yes, his A-R-S-E.
*sigh* See you at the bitter end, alright. I'm contemplating burning my tickets.
xxPo
P.S. However, it's actually really nice to read something like this, from a few days after. Life goes on and people experience greatness. I'm just finding it hard to swallow that I never even got a chance to.